


In Another World

by Hawkeye733



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on art from Modern Solas Month, a series of drabbles, meet-cutes, established relationships, break ups, make ups. Because maybe, in another world they might be happy.<br/>Art by <a href="salesart.tumblr.com">salesart</a> on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dishevelled Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salesman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salesman/gifts).



>   
> 

Solas closed his front door behind him and sank against the wood. It had been a long night. He closed his eyes and raised a hand to massage his temple, the headache caused by flashing lights and loud music, not to mention far too many people still bothering him even after the walk home in the cool night air.

He had not been looking forward to the event ever since Dorian all but blackmailed him into organising it but the Tevinter had insisted that it was the fast and easy way to boost their new publishing firm’s name among the ‘bigwigs of Orlais’ as Dorian had eloquently, and repeatedly, referred to them. Easy was not the word Solas would have used but he had to admit that he never imagined the number of people that actually showed up.

Solas dropped his hand from his temple and hooked a finger into his tie, swiftly easing it loose and sliding it out from under his collar. Without bothering to find the light switch, he headed towards the kitchen, taking a glass from the draining rack to pour a drink of water, hoping to soothe the headache, or his sore throat from talking all evening, and perhaps to counter what might be a hangover in the morning.

It had started as a restrained enough evening, quiet discussion of their plans and the dynamic of having Dorian, a less experienced fiction critic from Tevinter, running the company alongside a better known but controversial published historian and elf. Free champagne on entry and the unprecedented turnout had quickly turned the conversations more difficult to easily carry out. It was when the DJ appeared that Solas had to grit his teeth at his partner’s decision to host the event at the one venue they had agreed on that happened to have a built-in bar.

At that point Solas had ordered a glass of red wine.

He placed the water glass into the sink, deciding to wash it in the morning then walked slowly to his bedroom, one hand following the wall and the other retreating to his pocket. Once he sank down onto the edge of his mattress, he felt his fingers meet a small piece of paper.

He didn’t need to look to know immediately what it was. The one thing that had kept him at the party so long and it came in the oddest of forms. A young Dalish girl he had smiled politely at when she first approached him at the far end of the impromptu dance floor. She had known who he was and was keen to talk about one of his theories on ancient elves.

She had seemed clever and surprisingly receptive to his often unpopular interpretations of ancient murals and ruins. She had also mentioned that she had recently graduated from university and was looking for a graduate internship to begin work. She had been leaning towards finding work in a museum but had also been interested in Solas’ brief explanation of the publishing process, having taken English as part of her course.

A small smile came to his lips as he remembered the way her face had lit up with joy when he suggested she leave him an email address, so he could contact her should any positions become available. Ellana Lavellan, an unmistakeably Dalish name, however she had surprised him with her attitude, as well as the fact she was a long way from home here in the city, looking for jobs with the high education of a degree under her belt.

He mused to himself as he undid the top buttons on his shirt. Perhaps they did need a junior reader for incoming manuscripts, especially with the new publicity of their official launch party. With a brain and confidence like hers, he could see her going far.


	2. Turtlenecks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellana looked up at the queue she still had to work through. Despite the number still to go, held back even more by the fact her colleague had just decided to take a break before the morning crowd appeared. Supposedly it was an innocent mistake, though it wasn’t the first time Sera had left coincidentally before the biggest rush on her shift at the café.

Yet, even as she took the order from another customer impatiently hurrying on their way to work, she couldn’t help a smile as a familiar figure walked through the door.

It was not a smile of welcome, she didn’t know if he saw her or if he had even started to recognise her after all the months he had turned up at the same time every day for his morning coffee. No, her smile was one of exasperation as she noted that once again, her mysterious elven customer had on a cable knit, turtle necked sweater.

It had been understandable when she had first seen him, shortly after starting work at the coffee house. It had been the middle of Harvestmere, the first real chill was in the air and she had noticed him only because that morning she had decided against wearing a sweater and was now dreading her long walk home across town at the end of her shift. Therefore his sweater had looked awfully cosy as she huddled near the cappuccino steamer every time someone opened the door and let in another sharp blast of cold wind.

As she had handed over his coffee, she had said as much about his sweater. He had smiled politely, as people do a barista without really noticing them at all, and commented, “It is always worth being prepared.”

Now, however, it was near the end of Cloudreach, spring flowers had blossomed and were being replaced by summer colours. The sun was streaming in through the window and Ellana knew it would be heating up like an oven by the time midday rolled around.

Yet here he was, turtle neck making a full appearance and wool of a dark blue colour, just made for absorbing heat on a day like this. She noted that no one else was coming through the door and Sweater man was still last in the queue.

She hurried through the rest of the customers, always hoping that the bell wouldn’t ring again to announce any more arrivals, until she finally got to him. And he ordered the exact same drink he always did, medium cappuccino, nice and simple. Still, she couldn’t resist asking as she took his order,

“Would you like that in a frappuccino?”

He looked up at her then, a small crease in his brow. “A what? No, thank you. Just the cappuccino.” He smiled kindly enough that she was brave enough to continue.

“I only suggested it as something cool, you must be cooking in that jumper.” She gestured and he looked down, plucking absentmindedly at the thick cable knit.

“Oh i suppose it’s a little warmer today.” His small laugh was a surprise and Ellana couldn’t help the grin she gave in response.

“Maybe a little overprepared today, then?” She said, an offhanded reference to the first time they spoke and she entirely expected him to miss it entirely. Instead he met her eyes with a smirk that sent a jolt straight through her.

“You never know. There could be a change in the weather later today.” He handed her the money and took the coffee cup from her hands. He thanked her and with a thank you and wave goodbye, he walked out the door. Ellana kept smiling.

The next morning, right on schedule, she caught sight of the elf in the queue over someone’s shoulder. When he reached the counter it was he who spoke first.

“Better?” She looked up from the till to see sweater man in front of her. Only today, his sweater was not wool, just a thin, surprisingly tight fitting cotton material. But she couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she realised the turtle necked collar was still there.

“Better.” She agreed.


	3. Jeans and T-shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas loved writing. Ideas filled his head at all times, sometimes snippets of thought, sometimes images, sometimes a whole scene or the outline of a plot for another story, on top of the one he knew he had to finish before starting on another project. It was hard to keep track of them, even when he sat in front of the computer ready to type it all out. Sometimes there was too much of a jumble for him to keep up.

Other times he had to struggle out a few hundred words of unusable rubbish just to feel like he’d achieved anything.

Sometimes he needed to clear out his head all at once of all the other noise and make himself focus on where the plot was going. So he took himself out of the city, to the meadows well away from the sounds of traffic and other people’s worries and stress. The veil of trees between himself and his everyday surroundings made him feel a world away.

He lounged back and would let his thoughts wander to that quiet place that made him calm, his own meditation that would allow him to guide his process intentionally. He found it easier to concentrate out here, alone in his space. Everything else faded away to what he really wanted to focus on.

Recently however, the method hadn’t been working so well.

As he tried to concentrate on things that made him happy, he found himself thinking instead of a pair of eyes, with laughter lines crinkling around the edges. A flick of her hair out of her eyes as she looked up at him, a hand pressed against his chest lightly, finding it’s way there to touch him as if she wasn’t even aware of it, standing closer than anyone else would ever come into his personal space.

It wasn’t what was meant to be happening in his mind map of the story. It wasn’t even close to the themes he was working on. But it was inspirational, the effect she had on him. His vhenan.

His mind kept giving him pictures, sounds and scenes. He lay back, letting them play with a smile on his lips. He would have to bring her to his haven sometime,


	4. Hipster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So I was talking to Flemeth the other day,” Morrigan’s voice cuts across the group’s conversation and they look to her, only to quickly realise that for whatever reason, she has her gaze fixed on Solas. The elf narrows his eyes suspiciously but otherwise his expression betrays nothing, waiting for Morrigan to continue.

Ellana, Dorian, Bull, Varric and Josephine are all now flicking their eyes between them, trying not to be too obvious about their voyeurism on what is likely to be an interesting clash. All they have found out so far is that Flemeth is a mutual friend of the two of them, she knew Solas way back when. In truth, they don’t really know how far back when, but his past is a sore topic he rarely sheds any light on.

He and Morrigan also barely ever exchange words, when they do, it inevitably leads to arguing. So the others sit back and try not to interfere. It’s been a dull night.

“She’s been cleaning out her house, downsizing and she had me lend a hand.” Morrigan carries on, still watching Solas who predictably gives no reaction. “And I came across something rather interesting.” Was that a twitch from Solas? It had been too small to tell. “A box of old photos.” Definitely some reaction, a frown and a glimmer of something else in his eyes. “I wondered if you might want to keep them.” She smiles pleasantly at Solas and the effect is quite honestly shocking.

Solas somehow goes even paler, fear alights in his eyes, like nothing they've ever seen before. Needless to say, Dorian and Ellana practically launch themselves over the table, Solas mimicking the movement from the other side when Morrigan withdraws a small envelope from her bag. It takes a moment of squabbling and fumbling across the middle of the table, a drink falls over and Bull automatically corrects the glass, laying a napkin over the spill.

“Dorian, I swear you will-”

“Oh no, if you want it this much, we need to see it.” Ellana cuts Solas off.

“If I can consider you my friends you will give me that envelope.” He tries again, still grappling but his fingers are out-wrestled by the combined effort opposite him and the envelope slips from his grasp.

“Friends share with friends, Chuckles.” Varric adds soothingly, as Solas slams a hand onto the table with the force of losing his grip. Dorian opens the envelope.

“Fasta Vass.” He says, slightly breathlessly. Ellana can’t find words so Josie and Bull have to lean in on either side of the two to sneak a look. Josephine bursts into giggle immediately, turning a bright shade of crimson, almost matching the colour of Solas’ cheeks as he watches them despairingly.

“Well I didn’t see that coming.” Bull says. Varric huffs and shoves at the giant Qunari.

“What did I say about sharing? I need to- holy shit!” Bull had shifted out the way so Varric could lean forwards midway through his complaint. Morrigan is clearly enjoying the devastation she has wrought with one brightly coloured photo of a certain teenaged elf. Solas has turned red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and it’s hard to tell whether it’s from embarrassment or fury.

“It was-” He begins but Ellana cuts off whatever half formed excuse he had with a wave of her hand.

“Solas, I don’t care whether it was a phase or fancy dress or what you do every weekend. This is. The best thing. I have ever laid eyes on.” She’s vaguely reassured by the fact he hasn’t simply stormed out yet.

“Solas, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Dorian begins, finally wrenching his eyes from the photo to meet the elf’s withering stare. “But you should stick with the hobo sweaters.”

“Oh I don’t know. I could see him liven things up a little with colours. Prints. Sunglasses indoors.” Iron Bull says, maintaining his composure better than any of the others, who are speaking with increasingly short breath between hiccupping laughter.

“Do you still have the clothes?” Josephine asks, trying to be polite. Solas fixes her with a glare anyway.

“ _No_.”

Ellana looks a little saddened strangely. “Not even the hat?” she pouts.

“No.” He doesn’t manage to meet her eyes.

Solas eventually shows his face to them all again a week later, with a lot of coaxing from Ellana but at least now they know why he never discussed his past with them. They also don’t tell him that Varric printed everyone a copy of the photo for reference. He’s going to be in for a surprise when he sees their costumes come All Soul’s Day. For now, he thinks they’ve dropped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems all kinds of unlikely but it made me laugh. 
> 
> Loving the art inspiration? Don't forget to see more on tumblr at [Salesart](salesart.tumblr.com)


	5. Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkness.

It was all he was left with. His paintings came out looking dull, lifeless. A grim mockery of his earlier works. He had found light and colour in his world, they played effortlessly in his mind and splayed out across the canvas.

And he had shut them out. Why? Because he wasn’t worth it. He didn’t deserve her.

Not her pink lips or the sparkle of light glittering in her deep chocolate eyes. The way the sun filtered through her auburn hair, highlighting it’s darker tones with gold and orange and a fiery, shimmering red.

A year ago he remembered walking hand in hand with her through the park, the autumn leaves turning yellow and brown, falling around her so that the green sweater she wore made her look like the last spark of summer hanging on to the fading season.

This year all he saw were the dying leaves.

He picks up his paintbrush again, contemplating the outline in front of him. The colours faded with her leaving and he can’t decide what would work best here.

But that wasn’t fair, she didn’t leave. He made her go. He had no one to blame but himself for his current state but he knew it was for the best. She deserved so much better, someone younger than him, someone not barely scraping a living with one sold painting every few months and the rest of his money made up with shifts at low paid jobs that left him craving silence and an end to the stupidity of people.

He wanted what was best for her and he was not that. He wouldn’t be able to wipe his memory of the broken expression on her face when he told her that though. She had pleaded, told him it could work, she believed in them. But still he had backed away, told her no. He told himself it was better to hurt her now, rather than see her dragged down with him.

Despite her endless optimism, he was not somebody who could be saved. He only caused damage in his wake but she was the first one he cared enough about to get her out while he could still make himself let go. A disaster waiting to happen to everyone around him, he just didn’t want her to follow.

She was young, she would get over him. He couldn’t say the same for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one i tried new things with, what's the point of drabbling if i don't stretch myself


	6. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Halloween! And a little bit Solas Smut Saturday but...

Ellana was at the door as he opened it. Before the surprise had even registered on his face she had thrown her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer against him, bending her just slightly backwards in that way that had her smiling against his mouth.

“Long day?” She asked she asked when they had drawn slightly apart, though she was still leaning happily in his arms.

“Insufferable.” He treated himself to another soft kiss before pulling away too soon. “Now perhaps we can make it past the doorframe and you can tell me what’s brought this mood on.”

Ellana stepped backwards, keeping her arms locked around him so he was drawn along and able to close the door, preventing passing neighbours being witness to her entirely welcome affection. He didn’t feel like sharing that part of her.

Once they were alone within their apartment, he raised his eyebrow at her expectantly. She simply grinned mischievously.

“I think I have a way to make your bad day better.” She walked through the small doorway into their living room, now leading him with a warm hand in his own. Her excitement had him smiling as he followed obediently. He never would have believed someone as bright as Ellana would look twice at him but even as she strove to improve his mood, she already managed that simply by being there. Holding his hand like she did, smiling at him like she did.

“I am listening.” She pushed a hand against his chest and he fell back onto the sofa, though he kept his grip on her other hand, moving to twist her fingers with his own. A half second later she moved forwards, knees taking place on either side of his hips so she could rest on his thighs. Any other comment was lost as her lips once again found his.

It was not how she usually greeted him after work but Solas wasn’t complaining as his free hand moved to her thigh, gliding across her jeans until it came to the seat of her pants and he could pull her even closer against his body. She wiggled in response and he couldn’t help but laugh. Then she slowly licked to the corner of his mouth, peppering kisses up his cheekbone before her teeth grazed the length of his ear.

He didn’t hold back the moan that escaped him at the sensation and her delighted giggle was completely worth it. Her fingers left his and danced quickly along his chest. He was distracted from what her lips were currently doing only when he felt the first button of his work shirt pop loose.

“Vhenan?” He breathed, making no move to stop her, instead running the hand she had released up her side and into her hair. Her breath was warm against the side of his neck.

“You won’t be needing this.”

He had to pull back and turn his head, directing Ellana’s with his hand so he could reclaim her smart mouth. Her fingers played down his chest and in almost no time he felt the shirt fall to the sides. She deliberately tickled her fingernails back up his exposed ribs and began to pull her mouth away a little so he bit on her lip as mild retribution for her teasing. She had a pink tinge to her cheeks as she sat back on his thighs and his breathing was heavy.

Her fingers pressed back on his shoulders, pushing his at his shirt. “You know I can’t do all this myself.”

“I’m certain you would find a way.” He smirked but leaned up as much as he could to pull his arms from the sleeves, taking the opportunity to stretch further forwards, knowing exactly the place on her collarbone that made Ellana gasp. When his muscles protested and he fell back down again, his hands slipped to her hips, teasing upwards slowly until his fingers were under the edge of her much easier to remove t-shirt. “Your turn.”

“Oh no, not quite yet.” She admonished and her hands pressed down on his upper arms, easily and effectively preventing him from revealing any more of her skin. She leaned to brush her tongue across his lips again and he was pleasantly distracted from what her hands were doing behind him. It was only as something strange and furry pressed against his head that he pulled back from her warm mouth suddenly, a furrow of confusion on his brow.

“Ellana, what…?”

“It’s All Soul’s Day!” She cried and Solas winced at the sudden volume, before a hand went to the contraption now on his head and her intentions dawned on him.

“No.”

“Come on, you wanted to relax after work.”

“You rather led me to believe you had something else in mind.”

“Did I? I don’t think I _said_ what my plans were.” She pouted, with an exaggerated thoughtful look on her face, head tilted to one side. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as he pulled himself to sit up higher on the sofa. He lifted his discarded shirt with one finger, pointedly.

“Well you can’t exactly go out dressed as a barista.”

“I could not go out at all.”

“Solaaaas…” She moaned at him and he fought to keep the smirk from playing at the corner of his lips. She was far too endearing when she pleaded like that.

“And you think this is a better idea?” He pulled the furred thing from his head and took a look to see what it actually was. “Are these …cat ears?” He frowned again.

“Wolf actually. Wait, I’ll get the rest of it. It’s fantastic.” She jumped backwards off his lap and darted towards their bedroom. Solas sat up the rest of the way and rested his elbow on his knee, distractedly. He already knew she would be able to convince him to go out. He wasn’t going to let her know that just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm an awful Solas Smut Saturday tease


	7. Plaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the summer she would always remember. Spring had arrived and as the leaf buds blossomed across the trees, into the yard wandered the elf. He said his name was Solas, he didn’t add much more than that.

He was looking for a seasonal job and said that he was good with horses. So Ellana had led him to the stables at the back of the ranch. He refused her offer of a room inside the house, saying that he preferred to sleep outdoors in the barn any way. Agreeing on a weekly pay was simple enough, the Lavellans hired ranch hands every summer any way, he took the job and so it began.

He could apparently work tirelessly and with such love and respect for the horses. He led them out to the far pastures in the morning and carefully checked each one as they walked, looking over their coat, talking to them, knowing each of them. When they came back in the evening and the shadows stretched long beside him, he was just as thorough.

Ellana worked alongside him for some days and found it came naturally to fall into rhythm around him. He was at home among the animals as he had said and, since she had spent her life on this ranch and the horses were just like family to her, he felt like a piece fitting into place.

By the time summer came and visitors began taking rooms and booking treks out in the mountains, Ellana almost felt like Solas had always been there. She knew to saddle up the skewbald mare Leala for him, though she privately thought he would look fantastic on the stallion. She rode her own steady footed Haselan and they set off on the trails she knew so well with party after party of holiday riders to give them a striking taste of the wild outdoors.

While the guests revelled in their daring, taking a holiday away from their cities, where mobile phone signals couldn’t reach, Ellana explained how dangerous the paths were. She knew the best trails like the back of her hand, the horse an extension of herself while she could navigate them safely through different weathers and suit their trek to the times of day. She could find an alternate route home if a rockslide, not too uncommon, blocked the original path. If they were left stranded by an unfortunate accident, she could confidently keep them safe and seen to for the night or longer they might have had to survive.

Ellana would speak to the group at large, but mostly she was just wanting to share her experience with Solas, who genuinely seemed to be fascinated with the stories she had to tell.

After a time, Solas surprised her with tales of his own. He corrected her when she discussed survival techniques, informing her of a new way to find safe shelter protected from wild animals. He spoke like he knew the land. If not these trails in particular, then he knew the flora and fauna. There was a species of plant that stored water in their stem, a resource Ellana would not have known about if ever supplies were running low in an emergency.

So their summer continued. They spoke endlessly while out trekking, on occasions becoming so carried away with each other, they would allow the horses their head and found themselves some distance ahead or behind the guests.

Somewhat guiltily, they chuckled at their own distraction, turned around and concertedly made an effort to engage the guests with conversation. Inevitably both their horses would fall back into step next to each other. Sometimes the trail grew narrower, and the horses had to take to single file, or a guest might need attention.

Their conversation resumed as soon as they drew abreast, as if there had been no interruption.

Some weeks there were no guests, or few enough that Ellana’s younger sister and cousins could test their own abilities at leading. Ellana took the opportunities to lead Solas on the hazardous trails, where they couldn’t risk taking guests. She knew every twist and turn, that they led to wind carved canyons, breathtaking views and perhaps only by accident, completely private hideaways.

Surely there could be nothing better than this, laying with him in the shadows of the midday sun, words and fingers and mouths exploring each other. Her laughs of delight would echo back from the rocks towering above them while his hums of pleasure vibrated through her skin. She would return from these solo treks with a smile on her face that hid nothing while he always managed to look the picture of composure.

That was until she came out to the tack room he had claimed as his own later that evening, to lie curled against his chest and listen to the familiar scuffing of horse hooves through hay, the creatures nickering to each other in the still nights.

As the leaves began to turn in the orchard and the guest numbers started to dwindle, Ellana knew the end was drawing near. The Lavellan Ranch finally closed for the season when sharp winds cut across the valley, through thin summer jackets.

Solas told her it was time for him to move on. She didn’t really know where he had come from, or where he was going. All she had were his stories, his rhythmic words and the memory of his touch. She knew the horses would miss him, too. He just had this way about him. He drew you in, if you just stopped to listen.

Ellana knew she could never have made him stay. And she was happy that for those sun kissed days, he had made her his. When he was gone, swept away by the biting autumn breeze, she wouldn’t forget her mysterious elven wanderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texan Solas. This was entirely for me, i'm sorry.


	8. Ballroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one's a Modern AU but was requested as a prompt, rather than me being inspired by a picture. Strictly Come Dancing in the UK is known as Dancing With the Stars in the US, or at least I hope it's a similar show.

It seemed like half of Orlais tuned in to watch Strictly Come Dancing, whenever the series started. It was a reality competition show that somehow managed to show real skill, the artistry of the dances drawing viewers every week, people getting hooked by the improvements of the competitors through the series. Every series, people got to know the professional dancers as well as their celebrity partners, and there was one who didn’t exactly appear as a dancer. That was until he hit the dance floor.

Solas. The only male elf professional they had on the line up. He was also, intriguingly, not the shortest man there, so he had been partnered with both human and elf celebrities.

Solas always appeared completely supportive of his partner and it was clear that he pushed her to her limits to get the best dance routines. His dances were complicated, technically advanced and looked stunning but his more withheld attitude often meant he lost the public vote. His quiet sense of humour was lost behind the extroverted nature of some of the other candidates. Viewers preferred the stories of close partnerships formed with the other professionals and their partners. Solas acted just like that, as a professional. As such, it was often viewed as a curse to be partnered with the talented elf.

Things changed when the ‘Herald of Andraste’, Aeda Lavellan, became one of the contestants on the show. Unsurprisingly, it seemed, she was partnered with Solas, both being the only elves there. Casual racism at its finest. However it seemed they were just the right height. The perfect fit.

Thanks to a few dance lessons when Aeda was young, they managed to perform surprisingly well together. Solas’ routines were still just as perfect but now, it was clear to everyone there was a story being told. A chemistry seen in their routines, rehearsals and interviews. It didn’t take long for rumours to start.

Aeda was asked in every interview, sometimes tactfully, often not so tactfully, whether she was sleeping with him but every time she said no. That he was the perfect professional. So they became the couple on everyone’s lips. Rumours and questions, all of them false. But every week it seemed there was more evidence to support them. The power of their Paso Doble. The fluid grace of their Argentine Tango. The fervour of their Charleston and sensuality of their Rumba.

Constant refusals only shot fire into the rumour mills and people needed to watch their obvious chemistry. Because somehow, the quiet elven Herald and the reserved dancer brought something out in each other. No one denied the connection between them.

Popularity feeds ratings, and unsurprisingly, Aeda and Solas battled through to the final. They stood nervously as the announcer dragged out the announcement of the winner. They held each other tightly, each looking at each other at different times, then glancing away again.

Their names were called. They had won Strictly.

Solas lifted Aeda in a full twirl and she hugged him tightly. The crowd were cheering as Aeda landed back on her feet and delicately leaned up to press a small, almost hesitant kiss to his lips.

Their eyes met and Solas could be seen shaking his head. In one swift move, almost as smooth as if it was practised, he pulled her towards him, she curved back in his arms and their lips crashed together.   
Somehow the noise from the crowd became even louder, a deafening thunder of encouragement.

If it weren’t for their microphones, Aeda’s breathy “Now will you go out with me?” would have been lost completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, i'm in a little bit of a ballroom obsession at the moment


End file.
